Bedside Manner
by Zully Quirke
Summary: Bobby's struggle to figure out who he really is on multiple levels, from physical to emotional. (Un)luckily for him, he has Jean-Paul to help him in the endeavor. BobbyJean-Paul.


_A/N – Welcome to the first fanfiction I've written in quite a long time! Bobby and Jean-Paul have some of the most interesting character interaction I've seen to date, and far too people take advantage of that. I'm fortunate to discover that the few fans of this pairing also happen to be excellent authors; I hope I don't disappoint. ;) _

_Disclaimer – I don't own Marvel. I'm just trying to free two of quite possibly the most sexually repressed men ever created. _

_  
Warnings – Slash. Hot gay buttsecks. .. only no buttsecks. Yet. Maybe. waggles eyebrows_

Truth be told, Bobby had felt a little bad for standing Jean-Paul up, especially considering how things had turned out. Stood him up not only for a chick, a chick who had a mean, mean husband who then proceeded to throttle Bobby like there was no tomorrow. And to make things worse, Jean-Paul had ended up coming in to save him. Could we say ouch? While recovering in the infirmary, he'd decided that he was determined to at least take him out for a burger. It was the least he could do, right? Bobby's life had to at least be worth a cheeseburger. Maybe a side-order of fries and a shake. Although the last part depended on whether or not he wore one of his Infamously Hideous Hawaiian Shirts.

He was very surprised to find the man sitting next to his bed when he woke up the next morning, leafing through an issue of The Wall Street Journal with his legs crossed casually. He should've figured a man like Jean-Paul would read The Wall Street Journal, although he was a little surprised the man wasn't re-reading his own authored book for the thousandth time. He certainly wouldn't have put it past the egomaniac. Bobby stirred slightly then, catching Jean-Paul's attention.

"Ah, Robert. I see you've finally seen fit to join us in the land of consciousness." He replied coolly, wearing his ever-present smirk. Oh, he was so milking this.

"Yeah, I figured I'd stop in for a visit," He replied flatly. "Figured you all missed my gorgeous face." Bobby coughed and used his elbow to prop himself up. Jean-Paul started forward, but Bobby waved him off. "Jeez, mom, I'm fine. It's not like I fell off a cliff or something."

"No, you were just almost crushed by a giant mud man." Jean-Paul replied smoothly, tucking his hair behind a pointed ear. "Which I saved you from. After you stood me up."

And there it was.

"I know, I know," Bobby sighed. "I'm sorry. Really, I am. It was a shitty thing to do and I apologize. Let me make it up to you?"

Jean-Paul lifted a brow. "How?"

"Dinner?" He suggested sheepishly.

"Oh, please," Jean-Paul scoffed. "Any place you'd like to eat is probably... shall we say, not to my taste."

"C'mon, man, give me SOME credit. Bennigans is awesome food, and there's one not far from here." Bobby said, leaning back against his pillow.

His other brow lifted. "Bennigans?" He asked in genuine confusion. "What's that? Besides the obvious, which would be a restaurant," He filled in before his infamously sarcastic teammate could.

Bobby's jaw dropped, and he wasn't sure if it was out of shock or insult. "How long have you been in America? And you've NEVER been to a Bennigans? Aw man, that settles it. I'm taking you to Bennigans as soon as I can convince Annie to let me out of this bandaged prison." He picked at his cloth backless hospital gown warily. "Even I think this is hideous."

"Anything besides those hideous shirts of yours is an improvement," Jean-Paul sniffed. _Although they do give an excellent rear view_, he thought innocently.

"Haha, you're hilarious," Bobby mocked, tossing one of his flat pillows at the man. "What're you doing in here anyway? Just here to gloat and rub in how you saved my butt?"

Jean-Paul leaned back. "Pretty much," he said smugly. "Miss Annie said she needed someone to be here when you woke up. To make sure you do not, as she put it, 'Try to be an idiot and just walk off.'"

Bobby scowled. Damn Annie, and damn himself for being so apparently predictable. He was tempted to throw another pillow at Jean-Paul, but he only had one more and the bastard wasn't worth having to sleep on a flat bed all night.

"I'm going back to sleep," He announced indignantly, rolling over and turning his back to Jean-Paul, who didn't seem to be complaining in the slightest.

"Enjoy yourself," Was all he said, then quietly to himself after he was sure Bobby was well into the land of slumber, "I like this side of you better anyway."

---

A few days passed and Jean-Paul found himself for some reason continuing his bedside attentions. He attributed it mostly to the fact that he had nothing better to do; after all, the only person he had truly made friends with since his arrival was Annie who could be found here anyway and classes had yet to start up. So he sat in the hospital room, talking to Annie when she was in and reading his paper when she was out. Occasionally Bobby would wake up and the two would exchange a typical sarcastic banter until either Bobby fell asleep or Annie shooed him out so she could work on him in private. This always piqued his curiosity; changing bandages and applying ointment was nothing she hadn't let him watch previously. Did he have a more serious injury that Jean-Paul wasn't aware of? More importantly, did he really care enough to bother asking?

When it came to caring about Robert Francis Drake, life became a complicated thing for Jean-Paul. He'd found the man instantly physically attractive, although not breathtakingly so. He was his general type; lean build, sandy blonde hair, bright blue eyes and a winning smile. He lived to make people laugh, seemed to revel in a good (and bad) joke. In fact Jean-Paul found himself laughing even at Bobby's horrible jokes, just to see him smile. He'd never have worried this much over something as simple as a purely physical attraction, but it was impossible for Jean-Paul to feel any more for the man. He hardly knew him, after all.

Eventually his curiosity got the better of him and he decided it couldn't hurt to ask. Bobby was already asleep and Annie was physically shoving him out of the room with his paper in one hand and his jacket in the other. "Wait, wait, Annie – why do you always ask me to leave to attend to him? It's nothing I haven't seen after all.. correct?"

Annie had that knowing look in her eye; one Jean-Paul had become all too acquainted with during the weeks he'd been staying at the Institute. It was the look that said not only did she know more than she was letting on, but that she had no intention of sharing said knowledge. And damn the woman, she was quite possibly the most stubborn person he'd ever met. Himself included.

"I really don't know what you're talking about, Paulie-boy," She replied sweetly, using the nickname she'd concocted that she knew full well irritated him to no end. "All I know is you have no business being that close to such an attractive, nubile and nearly nude young man. Now shoo."

Jean-Paul scowled. "You are a never ending tease and a horrible woman."

"And you love me to death for it because I'm exactly like you. _Out_." She shoved him out the door and closed it behind him, shaking her head. Sighing, she turned back to Bobby and lifted the front of his nightgown, proceeding with the nightly examination Hank had asked her to perform. "Man, can Jean-Paul pick 'em."


End file.
